


What You Mean to Me

by NnoitraSzayel



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 02:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2174061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NnoitraSzayel/pseuds/NnoitraSzayel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>54 one-shots and drabbles about Ulquiorra and Grimmjow</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crash

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to all of those who died on September 11, 2001. May you all rest in peace. 
> 
> first published March 23, 2010

Ulquiorra sighed. Grimmjow was due back from his business trip in Boston tomorrow. To say that he missed his boyfriend would be an understatement.

Everyday, he went to work at the small bookstore, that he owned downstairs in the middle of Upper Manhattan, and worked from nine in the morning to six in the evening. Afterwards he would come home, prepare dinner, eat dinner, and take a quick shower. Once he was done with all that, there was really nothing else left to do, so he would usually curl up in bed with a book while he listened to the politicians debating in Congress until he fell asleep.

He did the same thing that night, and climbed into bed with Michael Crichton's _Airframe_ and turned on C-SPAN. It was a relatively slow day, as _No Child Left Behind_ had already been passed and made law. Ulquiorra glanced at the clock; it was only 7:34. He opened the book to a random page a began reading; _"the plane seemed to shudder, the nose of the plane turning down. Suddenly everything tilted at a crazy angle."_ He shook his head and glanced at the next page; _"the plane went into another steep dive. An elderly Chinese woman slid down the aisle on her back, screaming. A teenage boy followed, tumbling head over heels."_

He closed the book (maybe not the best choice when Grimmjow was coming home on a plane the next day); some Representative was talking about some new proposal that he had missed earlier. He clicked the light off, leaving the TV the only source of light in the room, and curled up around Grimmjow's pillow. It still smelt vaguely of _Drakar_ and lime; he nuzzled the pillow and inhaled deeply. It was a very comforting scent, and he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Ulquiorra was waking up rather slowly that morning as he'd had trouble sleeping the last night. He always did when Grimmjow was gone. It was 8:31 on September 11th, and it was already bright outside. He turned off the TV, got out of bed, and went to go prepare his breakfast.

Walking down the hallway into the kitchen, he was trying to remember if there were still eggs left. Opening the fridge, he saw that there were, in fact, a few eggs for breakfast. Ulquiorra turned on the stove and put a little bit of butter into the pan and flicked on the TV to the news station. Cracking three eggs into the pan and quickly adding some shredded cheddar cheese before beginning to stir them around the pan as they cooked, he had a pretty happy outlook on today. Grimmjow would be home in a few hours time.

By the time Ulquiorra had finished cooking breakfast and dished it out onto a plate, it was 8:45.

He sat down in the small living room with his breakfast; it only took him 5 seconds to realize that this particular news station was live. In New York City. Where he was. And there was a plane, headed straight towards the World Trade Center.

The clock turned to 8:46, and the plane struck the North Tower. Ulquiorra thought he was going to vomit, but he still watched, transfixed with horror, at the screen.

17 minutes later (at 9:03), the South Tower was struck.

34 minutes after that (at 9:37), news was received that the Pentagon had been hit by a plane as well.

At 9:59, the South Tower fell.

At 10:03, they found a fourth plane had crashed into a field in Pennsylvania.

At 10:28, the North Tower fell.

Ulquiorra couldn't move. He couldn't think. He didn't believe that that had just happened. Numbly, he stood up and walked toward the window that faced the far side of the city. There was a lot of smoke rising into the air over there. Ulquiorra glanced back at the TV.

They were announcing the flight numbers that had been hijacked.

"… American Airlines Flight 11 struck the North Tower of the World Trade Center at 8:46, United Airlines Flight 175 struck the South Tower at 9:03, American Airlines Flight 77 struck the Pentagon at 9:37, and United Airlines Flight 93 fell in a field in Pennsylvania at just 10:03 today, on September 11, 2001…"

 _United Airlines Flight 175…_ Ulquiorra was starting to panic now. Grimmjow was coming back from Boston on a plane, even though it wasn't that far, they had both agreed that it would be a bit quicker... but what was the flight number? This wasn't happening… "There are no known survivors from any of the flights."

He couldn't take it anymore; Ulquiorra grabbed a glass and the Vodka and retreated to his room. Grimmjow was dead.

Ulquiorra hardly ever drank. It wasn't that he didn't hold his liquor very well; he just didn't like to do it. He was totally out of it and numb. The pale man didn't want to have to face the loss of his lover; it hurt too much, not to mention the fact that he'd seen it all happen on TV.

The sun was setting now as he sat there with the now almost empty bottle of Vodka and his glass. Ulquiorra's back was against the bed side bed frame and he had his knees pulled up to his chest. He heard the quiet click of the lock, the door opening and closing, the tossing of keys onto a table, something being placed on the floor, the soft sound of a jacket being removed, and the quick and heavy footsteps of someone coming into the bedroom.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw someone standing, "Ulquiorra…" said a tired, but familiar voice. Not long after, he found himself being embraced, "I'm so happy that you're alright…" they murmured into his neck.

The pale man let out a shaky breath and slurred, "I'm not alright…"

The person next to him sounded confused, "what do you mean? You're alive, I was so worried about you…" they still sounded a little concerned… maybe they had seen the almost empty bottle of liquor?

His lower lip trembled and somehow managed to slur out a "Grimmjow'ssss dead….."

"Hey, no, don't cry…" Ulquiorra hadn't even realized he was until it was pointed out to him. Drunkenly he reached up to wipe it away, but ended up hitting himself in the nose before actually wiping it away. The person next to him collected the bottle and the glass and took them to the dresser.

Ulquiorra felt himself being gently lifted up and placed on to the bed. "Shh… love," a blurred face said, "you're going to have one helluva hangover in the morning…"

"W-who are you?" he slurred again, struggling to remain conscious.

"You must be really out of it… Ulqui, it's me, Grimmjow… come here…" Grimmjow lay down next to Ulquiorra and held him in his arms.

"Grimmjow…?" he repeated dumbly.

"Yes love, it's me," he said stroking Ulquiorra's soft ebony hair.

Despite his spinning head, he nuzzled Grimmjow's chest, and recognized the distinct scent of his boyfriend; _Drakar_ and lime. "But… how…?" he asked, the words thick on his tongue.

The teal haired man sighed, all he could say was: "thank gods I missed the plane."


	2. Mirror

Ulquiorra straightened his tie in front of the full length mirror in the bathroom. He bit his bottom lip nervously. His boyfriend, Grimmjow, walked out of the closet with his shirt open and his tie in hand.

The well muscled man set his tie down on the bathroom counter and walked over to Ulquiorra, setting his hands on the pale man's shoulders. "You'll do fine…" Grimmjow murmured.

"What if it's me?" he blurted out. "What then?"

"We'll leave; we'll go where you need to go."

"And you're really fine with picking up and leaving every time I get promoted?"

"I'll go wherever you go."

"Really?" he sounded uncertain.

Grimmjow chuckled, "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Ulquiorra turned his back on his reflection so he could face his lover. "Yes, but doesn't it ever get to be too much?"

"I _want_ to be with you, why can't you understand that?" he asked, wrapping his arms around the smaller man.

"Because I don't think I deserve it."

"But you do…" he said kissing Ulquiorra lightly on the lips. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Ulquiorra nodded, but he couldn't help feeling guilty. He was the reason that they were always picking up and leaving, and while he enjoyed being promoted, he didn't like putting Grimmjow through all that.

He sighed, pulled away, and donned his jacket. Grimmjow frowned and buttoned up his shirt. Once they were both ready, they went to the dinner and talked with a bunch of Ulquiorra's colleagues.

At the end of the dinner, the winner of the promotion was announced. Once again, it was Ulquiorra.

The rest of the night was filled with congratulations and goodbyes.

Once they were back in the privacy of their own home, Grimmjow gave Ulquiorra a special congratulations of his own before they both fell asleep.

Ulquiorra lay there, curled up around his lover thinking about how far away they were going to have to move. From California all the way to New York. That was on the other side of the country.

Ulquiorra slid out of bed and got dressed again, in something more casual this time.

Quickly and quietly, the pale man packed up most of his stuff, cleaned up the room, and had called a taxi to come and take him to the airport."

He grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, wrote a note to Grimmjow, and stuck it on the full length mirror that they had stood in front of so many times before.

For a fleeting moment, he considered staying, but then, he was gone.

When Grimmjow woke up, the first thing he noticed was that Ulquiorra was gone.

He got up, put his pants back on, and started looking around the house for him. When Grimmjow didn't find him, he went back upstairs to check the bathroom. He found a note taped to the mirror in Ulquiorra's neat and tidy script; _Grimmjow, I didn't want to make you move again. It would've hurt too much… - Ulquiorra_

Grimmjow was shocked. How could he? This hurt more than moving with him, and there was no trace of him in the house, the lack of his few personal possessions was a clear indication of that.

The mirror fell off the nail and shattered into thousands of tiny pieces.

Now he was broken too. Just like the mirror.


	3. Tainted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very short, but I felt this one didn't need more than I gave it, if that makes any sense at all

Grimmjow leaned down the mere seven inches to press his lips to Ulquiorra's. He knew that Ulquiorra enjoyed marking his territory, and he didn't mind.

The pale Arrancar wrapped his arms around the taller one's neck. He also enjoyed the taste of blood.

Ulquiorra bit into Grimmjow's bottom lip hard enough to elicit a small gasp from the inferior Espada and taint both of their lips with the warm, red blood that flowed from the small wound.


	4. Cycles

They were sitting outside on the other side of a sand dune. Grimmjow lay lazily on his back gazing up at the moon. Ulquiorra was next to him with is head on the Sexta's chest, arms rapped around each other enjoying one of the few moments they had alone together.

"It's almost time for us to go back inside…"

Grimmjow didn't really want to go back inside; it had seemed far too short. "Can't we just stay out here and continue watching the moon?"

The Cuatro sighed, "It never changes, there is nothing fascinating about it. And we have work to do, just like we do everyday." To apologize, he gave Grimmjow a quick but lingering kiss and stood before leaving.

And so life went on…


	5. Teardrops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a brief continuation of "Mirror"

The plane was leaving, rising higher into the air, and Ulquiorra Cifer sat alone, fingering the thin silver chain on his neck that held a sapphire pendant. He had never worn it before, as he thought it was too feminine for him to wear, but while he was packing, he had found it and put it on.

Gazing out the window at the shrinking city of Los Angeles below, he couldn’t help but wonder if Grimmjow had awoken yet. The answer to his question came when he felt a soft vibration in his pocket. Pulling it out, he discovered that he had just missed a call from Grimmjow and that there was a voicemail waiting for him. Tentatively holding the phone up to his ear, fully expecting to be yelled at, he heard his lover’s broken voice, _“Ulquiorra. I know where you’re going…. I… I may not know why, but I can still come and find you. Ulqui I… just… why would you do this? It makes no sense… I thought… I thought we loved each other…”_ It ended there, as Grimmjow had been starting to get choked up and hung up. Ulquiorra couldn’t help but have a tear roll down his cheek as he bit back a sob.

He was really leaving…


	6. Incomprehension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a continuation of Mirror and Teardrops

He had left. Ulquiorra had _actually_ left. Grimmjow couldn’t believe this. He continued tossing clothes into the suitcase on the bed. It was obvious where the man had gone; it almost seemed as if Ulquiorra wasn’t trying that hard to get away.

Why couldn’t he listen? Why didn’t he understand that it didn’t _matter_ how many times they had to move, as long as they were together, it didn’t make anymore a difference to Grimmjow than a change of scenery.

It was unsettling that the pale man though him incapable of moving across the country with him. Grimmjow sighed in frustration as he closed the suitcase, grabbed his jacket and walked out the door with one destination in mind: the airport.

Suits. They were boring. Ties. They were boring too. Everything about this was boring. Today’s day of work would be boring. Today’s walk to work would be boring. Finishing unpacking his things would be boring. And, most certainly, going to sleep at night would be highly uneventful.

Being with Grimmjow, and thinking about Grimmjow, was what got him through the day. Ulquiorra shook his head. _No. I mustn’t think about such things._ He told himself, withdrawing the key from the lock and then proceeding to walk down the long hallway to the elevator. Press the button, wait a couple of minutes, get in, press ground floor button, wait a couple more minutes, door open, step out, walkthrough the lobby and out doors, into the bustling city…

“How may I help you, sir?” the desk attendant asked, frowning in distates at the man’s state of dress.

“Is there an Ulquiorra Cifer staying here?”

The woman looked his up and down again, taking in the blue hair, cerulean eyes, the tall, muscular frame, and tired defeated face with a suitcase in hand. “And if there is?”

“I need to see him.”

This seemed sketchy… “And what business could _you_ possibly have with Cifer-san?”

“He’s my… best friend…” Grimmjow said, barely catching himself from saying boyfriend.

“A likely story… what’s his favorite color?”

“Green, not that you would know…” he answered right away.

“I see… and-”

“Look. I really need to talk to him. He used to live in California, then he got promoted and had to move here. He’s five feet, six and a half inches tall and one hundred and twenty one pounds. His birthday is December 1st. Shoulder length black hair, deep emerald eyes, pale skin… I know who he is! Just… please, let me talk to him…”

The woman blinked at this outburst. It would seem that this man knew Ulquiorra… oh well… “Room number 64 on the 6th floor.”

Grimmjow looked relieved. “Thank you.” And then he was off.

It had been a long grueling first day a work. There were so many names to memorize it wasn’t even funny. He let a small sigh slip past his lips as he opened the door. Upon entering, things didn’t seem different than the way he had left them… however… everything was unpacked and set up the way he had planned to do so. Setting down his briefcase and keys on the table, he walked into the living area of the apartment.

There, on the couch, sat Grimmjow, two glasses of red wine were on the table. At first, he thought he was hallucinating and would need to call a doctor in the morning, but then Grimmjow decided to speak, and he knew that this was real.

“Why did you leave?”

“How did you get in here?” Ulquiorra countered, after all, the door had been locked when he’d come back in and none of the windows appeared to be broken… but coming in through the window would have been impossible! They were on the 6th floor of an apartment complex!

“That’s not important, now answer my question… why did you leave like that?”

“I… I didn’t want you to have to leave because of me again…”

“Ulquiorra…” Grimmjow said, getting up and walking over to him. “I love you. I would move to Antarctica with you if that was where you were going to work.”

“That’s ridiculous… my job would never take me to Antarctica…”

Grimmjow sighed. “I’m staying here with you. And if you get promoted again, I’ll move with you to wherever you need to go. Why is it so hard to understand that I want to be with you?”

Ulquiorra allowed Grimmjow to wrap his arms around him. “I don’t know…. I just keep expecting you to leave.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you were the one who left me across the country…”

“I’m sorry…” Ulquiorra mumbled.

Grimmjow was silent for a moment. “Its fine, but I’m staying here.”

A small smile graced his pale lips. “Thank you…”

“For what?”

“For coming after me…”

Grimmjow grinned. “It was nothing really… s’not like I was just going to continue living like you’d never existed.”

And so there they stood, finally understanding one another… finally ready to live together without any doubts of the other leaving ever again…


End file.
